


one to ten, ten to twenty, six and three have no value

by rainbowshoppe



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, bpd jeremy heere, ocd jeremy heere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 05:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17954066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowshoppe/pseuds/rainbowshoppe
Summary: jeremy has a tough time getting up





	one to ten, ten to twenty, six and three have no value

**Author's Note:**

> if you took a supercomputer under the guise of it helping you further your life but instead it ruined everything almost irreversibly and then still tormented you after the fact would that be fucked up or what?

five.  
  
ten.  
  
fifteen.  
  
twenty.  
  
jeremy counts. he's laying in his bed and it's not quite night but not quite morning. he can faintly start to make out his ceiling brightening as he stares up at it. as he counts, he taps the fingers on his right hand against his leg. he starts at his thumb and ends at his ring finger, and then restarts from the top with his pinky. he keeps going in a round until it loops and he's back to starting at his thumb. then he continues.  
  
five.  
  
ten.  
  
fifteen.  
  
twenty.  
  
jeremy has been counting like this for at least 5 minutes. he can tell because his analog clock ticks away endlessly on the wall opposite his bed. he counts the ticks as he repeats the same four numbers over and over. it takes him five passes before he returns to his thumb. it takes him ten passes for an entire minute to pass. it takes fifty passes for him to slightly entertain the thought of stopping early. he continues.  
  
he's still, besides his tapping hand. he refuses to move anything else and frankly wouldn't be moving at all if he could. but he can't not move, because he has to count, because if he doesn't count he'll never get up, and if he never gets up then the squip has won, and if the squip wins then he might as well have let it kill him.  
  
five.  
  
ten.  
  
_Even with the ridiculous roundabout way you're going about this, you do know it's all futile, correct?_  
  
jeremy pointedly ignores the squip as it smiles condescendingly down at him, covering his view of his plain white bumpy ceiling with a transparent neon blue glow. he does his best to keep his expression neutral even as he can feel the pull of panic he's been slowly chipping at well up again. he continues.  
  
fifteen.  
  
twenty.  
  
his counting is skewed now, and he's lost track of the time he was trying to keep, but it's alright. he can always start anew. he can add everything up, and once he's been here for at least 20 minutes he can allow himself to move more and maybe even get up. through the squip jeremy can see his ceiling light up a bit more. it must be around 6 am, he decides.  
  
_It's actually going to be Eight in just a moment. All you have to do is ask, you know._  
  
jeremy does his best not to get caught up in the way he knows the squip thought 8 to him in words and not in numbers while referring to a time just to get a rise out of him. he won't allow the squip to win today.  
  
five.  
  
the squip sits inaudibly on jeremy's bed. there is no dip. jeremy feels himself slightly shift to the right anyways.  
  
_You know,_  it says, as if it has any right talking to him, as if it can't think up a different phrase,  _it's been a while. Why don't I help you again?_ jeremy can't really see it anymore, with it being in the corner of his eye, but he gets the distinct impression of it raising one leg to place over the other, and it placing its crossed hands on top of them. it makes jeremy want to pick himself up and lunge at it, but he knows that only ends with him ass up on the floor with rug burn on his face. he'd like to not repeat that, again, at least not today.  
  
a bit late, he realizes he's stopped counting. he's been tapping with no actual reason, because his stupid idiot bastard squip-  _Hey,_ -has once again ruined something for him. he abruptly sits up and pulls his legs up to his chin. he wraps his arms around himself, closes his eyes, and starts anew, again.  
  
five.  
  
ten.  
  
_I think we should start with that prophetic dream you had last night. Wasn't it just rife with information of your soon to be decent? Of course, I can always stop that from happening, if you'd just let me._  
  
jeremy can hear the smirk in his voice. he hates it. he distinctly does  _not_ want to think about the horrible nightmare that left him like this, actually. in fact that's the very  _last_ thing he wants or needs right now, but he tries his best not to think that, because then the squip will know and then the squip will take advantage of it and then the squip-  
  
_I hear everything you think as soon as you think it, you know that. We've been over this._  
  
jeremy holds himself tighter.  
  
fif..fifteen.  
  
_It's been Twenty minutes already. Don't you think you should hurry up with this? It's getting kind of pathetic to watch._  
  
it has not been 20 minutes, jeremy thinks at the squip, forcefully saying the 20 in numbers as hard as he can. it has only been 5 and it will always be 5 if you don't leave me alone and let me count.  
  
_Oh? But if you don't count then you can't get up right? And then I finally get to win, don't I?_  jeremy whips his head around and replies to the squip's near giddy expression with a look of pure hatred. he stops just short of growling out several profanities and seriously reconsidering whether a rug burn might actually be worth it.   
  
jeremy rips his gaze from the squip and looks face down into his knees. he counts as assertive as he can, which doesn't feel like enough, will never feel like enough ever again, but he puts all his mental energy into it to make up for that.  
  
five.  
  
ten.  
  
fifteen.  
  
twenty.  
  
he says it four more times.  
  
he takes a deep breath. then four more.  
  
the squip is gone when he looks up.  
  
jeremy lets his grip slip and he mechanically turns his entire body to his right, moves until his feet touch the ground, and stands.  
  
he clenches his fists once, twice. once, twice.  
  
jeremy leaves his room and starts his day.

**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading! i love you! ik this is shorter than my last one but the idea wouldnt stop bothering me so here we are lol  
> actual real notes abt this:  
> \- jeremy thinks in all lowercase because he's been rewired to think its More Chill. he also keeps a distinction between the numbers he counts and time numbers, its neater that way  
> \- theres a lot of run on sentences bc jere also still has his good ol anxiety, but thats just sorta implied in everything surrounding him by now i think  
> \- theres no distinction between jeremy think talking at the squip and him just thinking, but it only happens exactly once just for clarification  
> \- the squip correctly capitalizes his words. the audacity of this bitch  
> \- i have like 80 different versions of every bmc character running through my head simultaneously; this fic probably doesnt exist in the same world as my other one cause that takes lots of intricate thinking skills on my part of which i have at most .4  
> \- i am beyond bad at math. i seriously looked up 10x10 just to make sure it was 100, and then i didnt even have the first set of math right so that was null. if ive still somehow messed up any calculations please let me know ;w;  
> \- in that same vein i dont think i have ocd myself? so if ive messed up anything wrt that please feel free to correct me!!


End file.
